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“There’s an empty seat” Hermione murmured as she helped herself to the mashed potatoes.
“Yes, thanks, we can see that” Ron snarked, which rewarded him a slap to the back of the head from Harry who was so totally over their constant bickering after having been unable to avoid it during the summer. One would think he’d be used to it after six years of friendship, but to be fair he’d been a bit busy lately dealing with the dark lord and his followers crawling out of the woodwork like a bad lice infestation. Oh, and the horde of screaming fangirls. There were two of them trying to get his attention right now, actually. Harry was just about to turn and smile at them, confident it’d make them swoon and shut up, when the grand doors flew open with the most dramatic flair since the Beauxbaton girls showed up fourth year. There was a moment of stunned silence, before a tall man strode through the opening like a prophet coming down from heaven to have a word or two with his followers about them getting his message a bit fudged up. He was rather tall, with distractingly tight trousers in lieu of the usual robes, and though he was starting to lose his hair he had a face that was very nice to look at. He wore a black trenchcoat that was clinging to his shoulders with the sort of desperation hinting at it being about to burst at the seams, and he was smirking as if he had just heard a hilarious joke and they were all the butt of it.
“Ah, Harry” Albus said happily as he rose from his chair to greet the man.
“Albus, old man. You look fantastic as always. Did you get the socks?”
“Oh yes, thank you, you always find the best ones.”
“It’s talent, my friend, or dumb luck. Jury’s still out. Sorry about the train, there was an issue in London.”
“Did you get yourself arrested again, Harry?” McGonagall asked, and about half the student body fainted dead away when they realized that she was smiling.
“Minerva! You gorgeous creature, what do you think of me? No, wait, don’t answer that.”
The stranger - Harry, apparently - strolled around the table as if he owned it and cheerily placed himself in the empty seat. He rubbed his hands together with obvious glee as he admired the welcoming feast.
“Ah, dinner. Excellent. I’m starving.”
“Who is that nutter?” Ron whispered, sounding mostly awed.
“Our new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, Harry Dresden, I expect.” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. “Honestly Ron, did you even read the letter Professor McGonagall sent out before term?”
“No, you always tell me the important bits.” Ron shrugged. Hermione gave him an indulgent smile and wiped some ketchup from his shirt.
Harry - Potter, that was - looked at the stranger, who was now apparently very interested in a roast chicken he was carving into with a nasty looking knife that did not match the rest of the cutlery. It was going to be an interesting year, that was for sure.
As luck would have it, fate had decided to start the sixth year Gryffindors year with a bang and dropped them straight into DADA. Literally.
The floor gave away the moment they entered the classroom and they all ended up in an untidy heap at the bottom of a pit.
“SURPRISE!” The new teacher yelled cheerily as he beamed down at them.
“Harry Dresden, at your service. Now, we are going to play a little game. It’s called ‘climb out of the pit’. Last three people to get out get detention.” There was a mad scramble for the walls, but even more dismay as the students realised that they were completely smooth; not a crack to be found anywhere. Harry looked around helpless, seeing identical looks on his classmates faces. Well, not Hermione. She stood in the middle of the chaos, thinking. Then, she started to smile - that devilish grin she’d had when she showed them the jar with Rita Skeeter in. Then, to the other’s shock, she dropped her bag on the floor, climbed on top of it, and pulled out her wand.
“Wingardium Leviosa!” She cried, pointing at the bag. Within moments, she had levitated her bag - and herself with it - out of the pit and beamed at the teacher.
“Well done. You must be miss Granger. Snape bet me five sickles and a week’s worth of dreamless sleep that you’d be the first to get out. Oh and by the way” he added, leaning over the pit.
“Dumbledore helped me enchant the pit. It’ll only accept a technique once, so you can Leviosa until you turn blue - it won’t get you anywhere!” Lavender, Parvati and Neville immediately stopped trying to get their bags to levitate and instead stared at each other with increasing panic.
“Oh bugger it, I’m getting out!” Seamus snarled after a few more panicked minutes. He dug around in his bag for a few moments, then pulled out his ordinary and spare quills. Being the best at transfigurations among them after Hermione, it did not take him long to turn them into two sharp spikes he used as aids to climb the smooth walls of the pit.
“Clever, Mr-?”
“Finnegan, sir.”
“Finnegan. Irish, right? Knew an irish bloke once. Drank like a fish. Red hair. Fantastic fuck.” Dresden leaned forward again.
“Okay, levitation and transforming quills into spikes is out. Let’s make it a bit more interesting, shall we?” With those words, the pit sank three feet. Lavender screamed in panic.
“Tick tock, kids.” Dresden grinned like a madman. “This is survival class. What’s it gonna take to make it out?”
“That man is insane ,” Ron griped for the fifth time as he scowled at the hallway floor he was currently scrubbing without magic.
“Shut up, Ron” Harry growled in reply. His knees were killing him, his back felt like it was about to throw in the towel, and Filch was standing not three feet away grinning like he had ten birthdays and Christmases worth of presents waiting to be opened the moment the detention was over.
“I hate you both!” Was Parvati’s contribution to the conversation.
“Shut up!” Filch barked, still looking like Christmas came early.
They shut up.
Unfortunately, as it turned out, the smooth walled pit was really only the beginning of the defence class from hell. The second time the sixth year Gryffindors ventured into Professor Dresden’s classroom, they were met by a giant sign saying “I’m hiding somewhere in the castle. First person to find me avoids detention with Snape.”
“Why do I have a nasty feeling we’re about to play a deadly game of sardines?” Neville mused as they all scrambled for the door. It wouldn’t open. Instead, a new piece of paper appeared.
“All bets are off. Just don’t kill each other or I’ll get fired.” There was a moment where they stared distrustingly at each other. Then the door slowly swung open with a sound that was both smug and ominous. Still shocked, they all stood immobile until Lavender muttered a distinct “bugger it” and took of down the hallway as fast as her legs would carry her. Parvati whipped out her wand and howled a stunning curse.
She missed.
The “find Dresden”-race ended with half the class in the hospital wing and at least fifteen traumatized younger students, before Harry after two highly perilous hours wondered if anyone had bothered to check the DADA classroom. He found Dresden sprawled in his chair, legs up on the table, enjoying a mug of butterbeer and making lesson plans with the use of a dicta-quill.
“Oh, hello Harry. Clever you, looking in here. Has anyone died yet?”
“No, but Dean’s in the hospital wing after Hermione whacked him over the head with her book bag when he tried to trip her on the staircase.”
“Very cunning” Dresden murmured but gave no hint as to which student he was referring to. “Beer?” Harry accepted gratefully, but had only had one sip before the world started to go fuzzy.
“And there is the lesson of the day” he heard somewhere very far away, “when it comes down to it, every wizard is out for himself.”
Third week of class with Dresden and not one of the sixth year Gryffindors dared to enter the classroom. They lingered in the hall, giving each other suspicious looks. Finally, Ron told them all that they were pathetic cowards and ripped the door open. Harry instinctively crouched down and covered his head, waiting for a disaster of some kind. Nothing happened.
Slowly, they trickled into the classroom to be met by a serenely smiling Dresden and a bored-looking group of Slytherins.
“There, now we have learnt that everyone is essentially out for themselves and everything goes in this little world of ours” Dresden said cheerily, “which the Slytherins figured out after about ten minutes in the pit. Now we can actually start learning. Seats, please. Turn to page one of your books. Now, this year I have been ordered to cover the following subjects-”
The Gryffindors scrambled for their seats.
About two months into term, most of the students had stopped being petrified of professor Dresden. The most common opinion was that the man was completely bonkers, but he was crazy in that charming way some people are where you simply can’t resist going along with it. That, and his lectures were a bizarre mix of bare basic facts, jumpscares and hilarious anecdotes from his very colourful past. That he kept insisting on wearing shirts that were too small and strained over his abs had nothing to do with it. Really. Being sex on legs was just a bonus.
“NO SHIT, so there I was-” Dresden was waving his arms about like an excited child, retelling how he’d tricked a fae into obeying him by giving it milk, bread and honey. And explaining why you should never ever ever trick fairies into anything because it's a Very Bad Idea. After he was done with those two tasks, he had them all write down highly detailed instructions on how to call, trap, and trick a fae into doing their bidding.
Harry mentally bet himself a mug of butterbeer there’d be a practical test down the line.
“At this rate” Snape said over a mug of tea in the teacher’s lounge, “you’re going to get half your students killed.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, it was a minor accident.” Dresden protested as he put an obscene amount of sugar into his own tea.
“Half your third year class being sent to Pomfrey with second degree burns is a minor accident?”
“If they’d listened to the instructions and done their protection seals properly it wouldn’t have spit on them.”
“You had them summon a demon, Dresden.”
“Imp, actually. They’re usually friendly creatures.”
“And very, very dark magic.”
“Well, naturally. How can you defend yourself from something you have no experience with?”
“Well, as long as the headmaster does not find you teaching them unforgivable curses…”
“Oh no, that’s not until seventh year.”
Snape glared at him and angrily took one of the fancy biscuits. It was chocolate, and if he didn’t help himself now there wouldn’t be any biscuits once Dresden finally shut up and started eating.
“Tell you what” Dresden said cheerily as he grabbed two biscuits at once. “Let’s make a bet. It’ll make things interesting.”
“I am not sure I want anything to do with something you consider interesting” Snape protested, but he was intrigued.
"Oh come now Severus, live a little!"
"Last time you said that to me was three years ago and I ended up with alcohol poisoning."
"But it was one hell of a party!"
"Hell being the operative word. Fine, what's the bet?"
"None of my students get themselves killed in or because of my class before christmas and you'll marry me."
Snape choked on his tea.
"I what?" he spluttered once he'd stopped coughing and wheezing.
"You marry me." Dresden beamed like he'd just won the lottery. "Or at least let me get under that robe."
"Are you ever going to stop trying to shag me?" Snape protested indignantly. "And how did we go from marrying to shagging?"
"Well, I figured once I've fucked you senseless a few times you won't bitch so much about the marrying part."
"Drop dead, Dresden."
"Does that mean you're not taking the bet?"
"You're aware you'll get trashed."
"I reckon I'll just get lucky." Dresden leered at him, openly oogling what little he could see of his fellow teacher's body under the loose, flowing robe. Snape gave him his most hostile glare, but it only resulted in Dresden's twinkling blue eyes turning dark and smouldering. He'd rather die than admit it, but certain parts of Snape's anatomy were perking up and paying attention. It had, after all, been an embarrassingly long time. And Dresden was, undeniably, a gorgeous man. Completely insane, but gorgeous.
"Midnight Christmas Eve" he finally said, and Dresden beamed at him.
"You're on! Trust me, by mid Christmas morning I'll have you screaming my name."
For the first time in his life, Snape wished wholeheartedly for Voldemort to show up and take Potter out. And if it resulted in Lily damning him from beyond the grave, he wouldn't mind. Much.
Severus paced the hospital wing in agitation, wondering if Albus would be very cross with him if he put a pillow over miss Greengrass' face and held it there until the girl stopped breathing. He'd have just enough time, too- four minutes to midnight. If he used all his strength, he'd be able to be rid of the comatose fourteen-year-old before the clock chimed midnight. If Dresden won their ridiculous bet, he'd never be rid of him. No way in hell would the bastard EVER sign a divorce agreement. He had, after all, proposed to him fifteen times in as many years. Ever since that little holiday in Chicago that had ended in a five-day romp all over Dresden's uncle's mansion, if one was to be specific. He should have listened to his mother when she told him not to go.
Just as he was making his way over to get his hands on that enticing pillow, Dresden stormed in all leers.
"Hey gorgeous" he crowed, "just talked to Poppy. Dear Daphne here is going to be just fine!" Snape groaned. So much for a discreet murder.
"Keep your hands to yourself" he warned, trying not to panic, "I haven't lost yet!" But fate was definitely against him tonight as she chose that precise moment to let the clock at the far end of the hospital wing start it's racket to signal that midnight was upon them.
"Ah hell" Snape managed to mutter before he had a mouthful of the other wizard's tongue and a pair of strong, calloused hands were making their way under his robe.
"You're not -fuck- shagging me in the hospital wing" he managed to protest eventually, when Dresden allowed him to breathe and set about sucking a spectacular bruise into his neck.
"Fair enough" the other wizard hummed as at least six buttons gave up the fight and left Snape's robe to throw themselves to the relative safety of the floor.
"Your floor or mine?"
"Floor?" He squeaked in protest and felt a bit irate at his body ignoring his protesting brain, taking the opportunity to wind his legs around Dresden's waist even as his hands clutched at his shirt.
"If you're anything like I remember you, once I get this ridiculous thing off we won't have time to make it to the bed."
"Shut the hell up Harry" he growled, refusing to admit the truth in that statement.
“Now there’s the sex freak I’ve been looking for since September. I was wondering where he’d gotten himself off to.”
“I told you to shut up.”